


Command Me (to be well)

by happinessandcharcoal



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Commander of Death, Dead Costia (The 100), Demon AU, F/F, Oneshot, Spoilers, Violence, War, clarke goes by wanheda, lexa's set on revenge, she kind of sold her soul to the devil, shes a demon, spoiler alert costia is dead, wanheda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happinessandcharcoal/pseuds/happinessandcharcoal
Summary: Commander Lexa, overcome with rage and seeking out revenge, delivers the blood sacrifice required to summon Wanheda.“When I was a child, I was told stories of the old gods. The good and the bad. In particular, the legend of Wanheda. Daughter of the God of Time, who had perished in battle. Legend has it, she traded her soul to the God of Death in exchange for her father’s life.”Demon/Dark Magic AU





	Command Me (to be well)

**Author's Note:**

> I only briefly edited this because who has time for that?

_all the fearful eyes stay burned upon my mind  
the gift they left behind_

Polis – Fall Equinox - 40 days after war was declared  


The sky was dark and clouds hanging low, sullenly, almost as if the gods knew what imminent havoc awaited. On the highest of buildings, the flame of Polis, stood the young Commander. Eyes hardened, surrounded by smeared charcoal, watching the distant fog roll over the landscape. She heard her disciple address her formally, and she turned to see two men standing at the entrance of her quarters. The tall, slender man with a shaved head was tightly gripping the arm of a much taller and brawnier man.

“That is all, Titus.” Her words were dismissive, her demeanor stoic.

The bald man let go of his grasp and, for a moment, gave a concerned furrow of his brow before leaving the room.

Alone stood the Commander and the man.

“Heda.” The man nodded respectfully.

He had not been spoken to by the Commander since her lover had run off to make peace with the Ice Queen, Nia. He had been the warrior assigned to watch over her and keep her safe, and he had failed to do so. Matters were only made worse when the Commander’s lover was sent back to her, missing her body and placed in a dirty wooden box. The Commander had since refused to speak of her lover or address the travesty, but every one of her subjects saw the darkness that had consumed her. She wore black war paint every day and showed no signs of weakness; her head was always kept high, shoulders back, eyes as focused as a hawk. She had become less empathetic in her punishments and sentenced many criminals to death rather than imprisonment.

Needless to say, the warrior that stood before the Commander was terrified as she made her way across the room. To his surprise, she picked up the metal decanter and poured out two glasses of wine. She held one up and offered it silently as she downed her own. The man walked over and hesitantly took the metal grail, taking a few sips. His eyes wandered to the silver dagger on the table, and then quickly back up to look at the young Commander.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The Commander asked, setting down her wine to pick it up. She twirled the point against her finger tip, and then stroked down the engraved blade. “They say it belonged to Wanheda herself.” She searched his face for any sign of fear, but his features remained dull. She took a breath, nodding her head, “Do you know why I summoned you, Quint?”

The man swallowed thickly, “Heda, I would give my life to be able to change what happened. Had I known Costia would go to Azgeda, I never would have taken my eyes off of—”

“Do not sully her name with your retched mouth.” The Commander snarled, gripping the dagger tightly, “She is not yours to speak of.” She added, taking another breath. “I summoned you here to give you the opportunity of redemption. Do you accept my offer?” Quint nodded once, slowly. “Good. Now, finish your wine and join me. I wish to tell you a story.” The Commander turned and walked out to her viewing platform, staring out at the city and surrounding wilderness.

Quint gulped down the last of the wine and joined the Commander. A cold wind whipped around them— a strange occurrence for an otherwise mild day.

“When I was a child, I was told stories of the old gods. The good and the bad. In particular, the legend of Wanheda. Daughter of the God of Time, who had perished in battle. Legend has it, she traded her soul to the God of Death in exchange for her father’s life. But, the God of Death is also the God of Deceit. Although her father’s heart started to beat and his lungs fill with air, his eyes remained empty, he was a shell of who he used to be. Stricken by grief and in debt to the God of Death, she became frigid and ruthless in her ways, eventually earning the title of Wanheda – Commander of Death.”

She turned her head to face Quint, raising an eyebrow, “I used to find it difficult to understand how a kind leader could turn into the hand of the devil. However, after losing a loved one to such evil the story becomes easy to grasp. When the one you hold closest to your heart is torn from your chest, with it goes any and all empathy for the suffering of others.” She paused, her eyes staring blankly at Quint. She blinked slowly, her eyes focusing on the warrior that had allowed her love to escape. “I made the mistake of sparing Nia in past meetings, feeling empathy for her starving subjects. Now the Azgeda Army, the very same subjects that I felt empathy for, are ready to march at a moment’s notice. I very much want to kill all of them, Quint.”

Quint nodded firmly, “Of course, Heda.”

The Commander exhaled through her nose, “My army is also ready, but we are outnumbered. Unfortunately, I don’t think it will be possible to win in combat without some sort of help. So I have decided to summon the great Wanheda and ask for her aid. Now tell me, Quint, have you ever seen the blood of a Commander?” she asked, dragging the blade across her palm and wetting it with the black blood that pooled.

Quint stared, as if in a trance, watching the black blood coat the silver. As the blade was covered, the engraving could be easily read. _Jus Drein Jus Daun._ “Heda—” Before another word slipped out, he felt the cold blade glide across his neck. There was no pain aside from the feeling of being frozen, so he was confused to see red blood coating the blade.

“Jus drein, jus daun.” The Commander recited, eyes fierce, watching as her subject fell first to his knees and finally to the stone floor. The wind picked up, howling across Polis. A shimmering white frost began to expand across the valley, making its way toward Polis. It crept across the outer villages, through the market, and finally up the flame of Polis. The Commander looked down as the blade grew colder, watching in awe as it began to freeze from tip to handle. Still, she held it tightly despite the stinging pain. The cold faded quickly and a strange silence hung in the air.

The Commander raised her chin to lay her eyes on the figure standing in front of her. Black robes, cloaks, silvery mist twisting and flowing beneath. For a fleeting moment she felt a jolt of fear, but the memory of opening the wooden box on her bed was enough to remind her of her goal. She dropped to one knee, bowing her head. “Wanheda.” She addressed respectfully, staring at the frost bitten stone beneath her boot. “I, Leksa kom Trikru, Heda of the Twelve Clans, swear fealty to you and vow to treat you with the respect you deserve.”

“Rise, Leksa.” A voice said, hoarse.

Lexa stood, watching as two hands emerged from the dark and metallic cloak, lifting away the hood. She inhaled sharply, laying eyes on the mortal face of Wanheda. Beautiful, but fierce. Icy blue eyes, sharp cheek bones, white blonde and silvery hair. Everything about her looked as though she was carved from ice.

“I summoned you to—”

“I know why. I’ve seen what Nia has done.” Wanheda said shortly, “She harbours a terrible evil. I should know.” A smirk, tongue wetting her lips, “You are twice outnumbered by her army and you wish for me to conjure an army of my own to fight alongside your men.”

“Yes, Wanheda.”

“Unfortunately for you, I am no God. I do not give handouts. I require payment in exchange for my power.”

“I will give you anything, Wanheda.” Lexa’s voice was unwavering and honest. Wanheda stepped forward, cupping Lexa’s cheek and stroking her thumb across the flesh. She leaned in closer, her lips hovering over Lexa’s. “What is it you desire?” Lexa questioned, her breath fogging against Wanheda’s freezing exhale.

Wanheda smiled, leaning in so her lips grazed against Lexa’s ear, frost expanding over flesh. “Your soul.”

“What is it you hope to do with it?”

“Anything I choose.”

Lexa paused for a moment before responding. “I would give my soul a thousand times over to be able to cut Nia's head from her body.”

Wanheda smiled, lips pressing against Lexa’s neck, leaving behind the bite of ice. “Then gather your army and march to the edge of the forest that surrounds Azgeda. When you arrive, I will be waiting. We will smite the Azgeda before the sun rises.” Before pulling away, she placed another lingering kiss against Lexa’s cheekbone. In a moment she was gone, leaving behind nothing but a silvery haze and the bite of frost on Lexa’s flesh.

Lexa took a deep breath, turning on her heels and walking through her quarters. She slid the bloodied dagger into a sheath on her thigh, swinging open her door.

Titus stood across the hall, watching with a raised eyebrow. He nodded respectfully, “Heda.”

She continued to walk, turning back briefly, “I killed Quint. Dispose of him. And send a message to the army. Have them ready to march on Azgeda by nightfall.”

 

* * *

 

At the edge of the Azgeda Forest, Lexa turned to look at her army. Hundreds of warriors, all waiting with baited breath for the arrival Wanheda. Seeing her warriors in full battle armour, carrying their sharpest weapons and donning war paint made her heart beat faster. The thought of the impending revenge was enough to make her feel like her chest could explode.

When the wind blew colder, she knew Wanheda was near. Her army was silent, the only thing making noise was the howling wind. She took a deep breath and looked to her second in command, Indra. A fierce warrior who had rallied the army. She nodded at Indra, who immediately began to yell, “Today, we fight alongside the great Wanheda and her army! Today, we destroy Azgeda! We smite the clan that has rebelled against our Heda, the Trikru, and the other clans! When you go to battle, keep in mind the sins that Azgeda has commited against each and every one of us! May our battle be victorious!” The army cheered loudly, breaking the deafening silence.

A strong, freezing gust of wind blew past Lexa and with it came the familiar metallic smoke. It twisted around the trees and through it walked Wanheda.

“Wanheda.” Bowing her head.

The Commander of Death made her appearance looking just as the drawings and murals had portrayed. Dark, shimmering smoke twisting and curling around her feet, black robes studded with obsidian that cloaked her leather clothing, and a black and silver kohl around her eyes. She stepped forward wordlessly and pulled the dagger from Lexa’s thigh, taking Lexa’s hand in hers and slicing open her palm.

Lexa watched as her black blood coated the blade, and then Wanheda brought it to her own hand. She sliced through it, silver blood pooling in her palm and mixing with the black blood on the blade. She briefly closed her eyes, and when they opened her eyes were a shimmering black.

“Rise.” She said, and the smoke beneath her feet began expanding across the forest floor. The army made noises as the smoke filled the space between them. Wanheda leaned forward and kissed Lexa, teeth scraping against lips.

Lexa felt her breath go frigid and her limbs cold. She swallowed thickly, finally feeling a warm sensation across her body. Wanheda’s eyes had faded back to the regular glacial blue.

“Make your move, Commander.” Wanheda said, moving to stand beside Lexa. She placed a hand between the young Commander’s shoulder blades, extending her other hand to bring attention to the army of black, twisting figures that had risen from the smoke and stood amongst the Trikru Army. “Give them orders and they will obey.”

Lexa responded quickly, even before taking another breath. “Leave no Azgeda warrior or scholar alive! Kill everyone and everything that could lead to a potential revolt! Jus drein jus daun!” The army chanted back at her. In one swift movement, Lexa drew her swords from their sheaths along her shoulder blades.

When she began to charge, the army followed suit. The army, a mix of clansmen and dark figures, charged out of the forest toward the city. The Azgeda army began to spill from the city, simultaneously charging toward Lexa and her army. When the armies met, just outside of the city, it looked as if a black fog enveloped the Azgeda Army. They were overrun in a short time, before the Azgeda archers even had a chance to set up along the top of the walls. The dark army was too fast and too brutal for anything to stand against them, let alone against both it and the Trikru Warriors.

Wanheda appeared next to Lexa, who was bloodied from the battle. “It is time for your revenge, Leksa.” She smiled as she took Lexa’s arm in her hand. Smoke wrapped around them and drew the air from Lexa’s lungs. Just as she thought her chest would collapse, she was able to take a breath. The smoke dissipated and she realized she was without Wanheda. Instead, she was standing before Queen Nia, who was sitting in her throne, Azgeda warriors surrounding her. The look on her face was of complete horror.

“What have you done?” Nia asked, the quiet screams of her people reverberating off the walls of her castle. Lexa gripped her swords tightly, waiting for the warriors to make their move. “Do not wait!” Nia snarled, “Kill her!”

The men drew their swords and charged forward. Before they made it halfway across the throne room, Lexa felt a burst of energy like no other. Any one of those swords could have been the weapon used to kill her beloved Costia. This was the revenge she had yearned for.

She strode forward, picking up speed, and killed the first set of men with ease. Her swords slid through flesh as if it were water. There was no resistance against her blades as they cut and gored the charging warriors. Her mind was completely empty as she fought, making her way towards the Ice Queen. The closer to the Queen she got, the stronger the men became. It made the fight that much more enticing. She only took one blow to the face, when she had been faced with two warriors at once. The warmth of blood on her chin was somehow soothing and aided her in the fight. When she killed the last man, the last warrior that stood between herself and Nia, she felt a rush of adrenaline.

Nia stood from her throne, stepping down to Lexa’s level. “I confess, Lexa, I never imagined you would call upon Wanheda. You must have been desperate, and for that I am flattered.”

There was only one thing on Lexa’s mind, and it came out as a snarl. “Costia came to you to make peace and you killed her.”

Nia was quiet for a second before she let out a spiteful laugh, shaking her head, “I don’t believe it. That is what all this is about? A girl?” she asked incredulously.

Lexa whipped one of her swords forward and watched as flew, finally sinking into Nia’s chest. The Ice Queen fell to her knees, staring down at the sword buried in her flesh.

“Your legacy is soaked in failure, Nia. Azgeda is abolished. Your people are dead.”

Nia could only gasp for air, her scarred face contorted with pain. Lexa slowly walked forward, revelling in the shock on Nia’s face, and raised her sword.

“Jus drein, jus daun.”

Nia’s head rolled from her body, falling to the floor. Lexa’s chest was heaving, her eyes dark as she stared at the head of the Ice Queen.

“What a beautiful execution.” Lexa looked up to see Wanheda sitting on the Azgeda throne, fiddling with the dagger and looking more stoic than anything.

Lexa swallowed thickly, her eyes darting back down to look at the body of the Ice Queen before looking back up. “The throne suits you well, Wanheda.”

A laugh filled the room and it took Lexa a moment to realize it was Wanheda. She stood and walked down to meet Lexa, reaching out to caress her cheek. “You are powerful, Leksa. You will make a good mortal partner.” She leaned down to bite at Lexa’s lower lip, drawing the faintest amount of blood.

The doors to the throne room swung open and Indra walked in alongside her second, Okteivia. Lexa sheathed her swords, raising her chin. “Wanheda, Heda,” Indra bowed her head, “Azgeda has been conquered. The townsfolk await further instruction.”

Wanheda smirked, her hand planted between Lexa’s shoulder blades, frost expanding around her fingertips. “The future looks prosperous, Leksa.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Space AU coming up next :)


End file.
